


No Time to Lose

by BeTheCheeto



Series: MadaTobi Week 2018 [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, MadaTobi Week 2018, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-06-21 03:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15548535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeTheCheeto/pseuds/BeTheCheeto
Summary: Day 5 of MadaTobi Week 2018: Time Travel/ExperimentationTobirama isn't sure this is the right path, but he's out of options. He just prays he hasn't made a grave mistake.





	1. But Everything Feels Like Losing

Tobirama frowned as he looked down at the red concoction. That had been… unexpected. It was supposed to be a light blue… He glared down at the notes he had taken, trying to see where he had gone wrong. He debated whether or not he should try again, but certain elements of this potion had taken a month to brew, and he didn't have time to redo it. His intended target was getting crazier and more antsy by the second, and he was already uncertain enough as to whether he was doing the right thing. Given another month’s time, the rational part of his brain would probably talk him out of what he was about to do. 

He knew he shouldn't even be considering what he was planning. He had made those seals in the interest of research, never planning to use them. He hadn't even told anyone about their creation, for fear of them falling into the wrong hands. He didn't even know if they worked himself. He had never even tested them, concerned about the possible repercussions of the most minimal usage of them. In theory, they should work, but in practice…

He grimaced. He was a little concerned about what would happen when he activated the seals. It wasn’t that he was afraid of death; he was a shinobi, and the threat of death near-constantly was an occupational hazard he had grown used to at an age that he was well aware was not normal. He honestly couldn’t remember ever going in to a mission fearing the loss of his own life. His brother, however… He frowned again. No, Hashirama would not take his death well. It would be especially hard for the only remaining member of his family should he fail, especially considering that the cost of his failure would be far from his own life. Rather, it would be the loss of everything his dear brother held close to his heart… No. No, he couldn’t allow that. 

Steeling his resolve, he put a stopper in the vial and took a deep breath before reaching for the seals that hadn’t been touched since their creation. He tucked the vial and the return seal safely in his pocket, unrolled the scroll, and closing his eyes, placed his hand over the centermost portion of the seal. He pulsed just the right amount of chakra into the fabric, knowing that too much could make the seal unstable and unpredictable.    
Instantly, he felt as though he were being tugged in all directions at once. Curious as he was, he didn’t open his eyes, partially due to fear that his seals hadn’t worked as intended, and partially due to the amount of pressure pushing in on him despite the feeling that all of it was going outward. It was a strange sensation, stranger even than the feeling of his Hiraishin jutsu, and he tried to frown, but the pressure was such that he couldn’t move a single muscle even an inch. When the pressure finally let up, he stood with his eyes closed for a moment, trying to regain his bearings. He reached out with his sensory skills, and was instantly able to discern that whether or not his seals had worked as intended, he certainly was no longer at the edge of a bustling village. There were no chakra signatures around for miles, and the ones he could feel closest to him were weak. Certainly not the bright, carefully honed and controlled sparks that belonged to shinobi. Country farmers, perhaps?

He opened his eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the lack of light. It was nighttime, and as he turned his head slowly, his eyes fell upon a familiar feature, the same but so different, and his face broke into an uncontrollable grin. As he stared upon what would one day be Hokage Mountain, he made a mental note: apparently, while successful, this jutsu could transport the user through time, but not space. Fascinating. 

He turned his head, frowning, deep in thought. He would have to be very careful during his time here. Any singular wrong move could change the course of the future forever, and there was only one thing he planned to change. He didn’t even want to do that, if he was being honest, but there were lives on the line… the lives of so many could be spared with this one simple action. Hashirama would be hurt, he knew, but it had to be done. He had thought long and hard, and even his genius brain hadn’t been able to come up with any other solution. So he started slinking off in the right direction. If all had gone according to plan (which would be a miracle, no doubt) he should be able to make it there with plenty of time. He would be able to observe one interaction, and he could camp nearby to await the next. That was his chance, and that was when he would strike. 

He made it to his destination just before daybreak, found himself a niche in a tree nearby, not so far away that he wouldn’t hear them, yet not quite close enough for their sharp (even as children) shinobi senses, and caught a quick catnap. He awoke to a whooping voice, and froze, pulling his chakra as tight to himself as was possible. It was much closer than he had anticipated, and for a moment, he was afraid his cover would be blown. But unsurprisingly, Hashirama flew by him without even noticing the familiar presence that shouldn’t be there. Hashirama may be very attuned to his signature, but this version of the exuberant being was not familiar with Tobirama’s exceptional chakra control, or his ability to hide from bone-crushing, breath-stealing hugs. This version of his brother only knew the angry, vengeful, obedient-to-a-fault child he had once been. 

The deaths of his brothers, younger even than himself, had scarred him deeply, and he clenched his fists, still angry at this younger version of him for falling for the man’s lies. He had believed every word of his father’s poison, allowing the man to attribute all of the violence onto their greatest enemy. To blame the deaths of his dear brothers on the Uchiha, in the hopes of fanning the flames of abhorrence in his young son’s heart. Tobirama had been Senju Butsuma’s prodigal son, and it was common knowledge that he intended for Tobirama to take on the mantle of Clan Head after his death rather than follow tradition and leave the position to his eldest, softer-hearted son. Butsuma had hated Hashirama, with his dreams and his kind heart, and it was the day Tobirama had learned of that hatred that he had finally seen through his father’s lies. And Tobirama smiled as he watched his free-spirited brother run toward the banks of his favorite river, stripping off his clothes as he went before cannon-balling into the water with an excited shout, that he thanked the gods, again, that Hashirama had saved him. The man probably didn’t even know it. He had saved Tobirama from himself just by being who he was, by loving Tobirama with his full heart despite the years Tobirama had spent absorbing his father’s lies and treating his eldest brother like the fool he had been led to believe he was. 

The grin on his face died as another figure came into view on the other side of the river, and he scowled. Uchiha Madara, arrogant even back then, was taunting Hashirama from the river’s edge. Tobirama had never understood how Hashirama tolerated this man, let alone claimed to care for him as though they were brothers (a statement that had made Tobirama boiling mad on more than one occasion; how DARE Hashirama place this arrogant prick on the same level as their sweet, hopeful younger brothers!) He was a selfish, ignorant, and prideful fool, and those were the nicest things Tobirama could find to say about him. It was no secret that he and Madara didn’t get along, but Tobirama had to admit, even he was surprised that the situation in his own time had come to what it had. He had never thought even Madara could stoop so low, but he himself had seen the proof… It couldn’t be ignored any longer. 

So he just sighed and settled in to watch the exchange, occasionally even finding himself smiling despite himself as he watched the two friends bicker and joke, passing the time swimming, eating, and skipping rocks. He smiled when Hashirama won the last round, and Madara angrily got in his face and challenged him to a rematch. Tobirama thought steam might actually start pouring out of the child’s ears when Hashirama reminded him haughtily that they had both agreed this would be the last round. Shortly after that, the boys had parted ways, mentioning that they would return to this place the following week. Tobirama looked towards the low foliage, seeing a flash of white disappear as quickly as it had appeared, and grimaced. 

The next week was hell, waiting for the meet-up. He had brought some blank parchment with him to work on jutsu and document the effects of the time-travel seals while he waited for the next encounter, but even he couldn’t work for 16 hours a day. It was times like this that he truly hated the fact that he was only really able to sleep for about 5 hours a day. It left him a lot of time to doubt himself, to doubt his self-assigned mission. He almost gave up about a dozen times, but forced himself to stay. He had come this far, he couldn’t back out now. His future depended on him. 

Finally, the day arrived, and Tobirama couldn’t be more pleased. He had spent as much time as possible being still, trying to avoid affecting the world around him, unsure what the slightest movement might change in his own world. Hashirama arrived, and as he knew he would, Tobirama saw a movement in the underbrush. He waited until Hashirama was good and distracted before slipping from his hiding place. He pulled his chakra close and drew his Hiraishin kunai, knowing he only had one shot at this. He aimed and let it fly, not even allowing it to land before he dragged himself through space to meet it. He caught the kunai out of thin air at the same time as his other arm wrapped around the lower half of the boy’s face, muffling his shout of fury and surprise with his clothed forearm. The child flailed like a trapped animal, and Tobirama couldn’t help but think in the back of his mind that his father would be ashamed, knowing his prodigy had reacted so poorly to his first real capture. 

He managed to maneuver himself to a position where wide, red eyes stared at him in suspicion and awe, while still holding the struggling child captive. If there was anyone who knew how unpredictable he could be, it was him, and this wasn’t a situation he could rely on his memories to help him with. He had never seen a past version of himself before. Unsurprisingly, the child landed on suspicion as the dominant emotion. When he did release his younger self, the child’s eyes darted appraisingly toward the river, where Hashirama’s cheerful voice could be heard greeting his friend, before sliding back to Tobirama and glaring. 

“You won’t call for him, and we both know it. That would blow your cover, and you would never disappoint your father.” Tobirama’s statement was matter-of-fact, his voice icy to hide his disgust for this warped, sycophantic young mind.

Red eyes narrowed even further at Tobirama’s statement. “And how would you know?” the boy sneered, his voice barely a whisper. 

Tobirama smirked. “How would I know? Because I’m you, of course.”

The child’s eyes only narrowed further. “Oh, yeah? Prove it!”

Tobirama chuckled. He hadn’t remembered his younger self as being particularly petulant. He thought, stroking his chin as he did so before coming up with something he knew would prove his identity beyond a shadow of a doubt. “You have a scar on your right butt cheek from your first attempt at using the Hiraishin jutsu with a specially marked kunai, because you accidentally grabbed one of your previously placed marks on a nearby tree rather than the much more difficult, traveling target on the kunai and you stabbed yourself in the ass. You were so embarrassed that you never informed anyone of the injury, preferring to treat it yourself, which led to a mild infection due to the difficulty in properly dressing the wound that you had and required you to self-medicate with herbs you stole from Hashirama, which he then blamed on your cousin Touka as she was always messing around with his healing supplies.”

The boy’s eyes grew wide throughout Tobirama’s story, and he licked his lips nervously. “Ho-how do you know about that?” he managed to stutter. 

Tobirama chuckled. “As I said, boy, I’m you. And you never do tell anyone about that, in case you’re wondering.”

The younger version of himself seems to accept this as proof, and his eyes light up with the excitement he reserved for new knowledge. Questions poured from him like water from a sieve. “Wh… how did you get here? Why are you here? How old are you? What is the future like?!”

Though a little disconcerted that his younger self accepted this so easily as proof (though he shouldn’t be surprised; he still remembered in great detail the shame he felt that day waddling painfully home from his secret training grounds, holding his sore bottom and slinking awkwardly into the shadows anytime he came across anyone so he wouldn’t be questioned), Tobirama chuckled. “I’m here using the seals  _ you _ will later develop, though I’ll admit I never did intend to actually use them. The future is… complicated. At least, it is 15 years from now. That’s when I come from.”

Young Tobirama thought for a second. “So you… you’re 27?” The older man nodded, and a sort of reverence crosses the younger’s face as he observes. “Wow. I live to be 27…” he says, seemingly thrilled by his good fortune. The fact that this was something he had never expected causes the older Tobirama to wince. He didn’t miss for a moment the days he had never expected the next one to come.

Young Tobirama opened his mouth again, but Tobirama placed a finger to his lips to silence them. “I wish I had time to answer all of your questions, but unfortunately, I came here for a reason, and the time is drawing near. Do you have any idea who that boy with your brother is?” he asked, gesturing with his head towards the stream. 

Tobirama’s eyes widen infinitesimally, but he shakes his head no. The older Tobirama lets out a breath. “That… is Uchiha Madara, the firstborn son of Uchiha Tajima.” The child’s eyes narrow and fill with hate at the surname, and Tobirama has to resist the urge to wallop him for his blind trust in a jaded old bastard. “I understand your feelings, but we only have one shot at this, and we can’t screw it up. I need your help to save my future…  _ our _ future. Can you do this?” The younger boy nodded. 

Tobirama released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He pulled the vial from his pocket, and his younger self eyed it warily. “Now, I need this to make it into Madara’s tea. I would do it myself, but obviously, it could be catastrophic if I were seen. Not everyone possesses your level head, and the idea of me being able to time travel could certainly cause a panic in our largest rivals should this plan fail. I need  _ you _ to be the one to slip this to him, but you  **can’t be seen** . Hashirama CANNOT know that it was me… well, us, I suppose… who did this. Do you understand?” he asked, his voice low and urgent. 

The child nodded, reaching for the vial. He stared at it for a moment, looking back to Tobirama. “What does it do?”

Tobirama swallowed, glancing sadly through the bushes at his eldest brother, innocently playing by the stream, completely unaware that the natural course of his entire life was about to be changed. “It changes… everything…”

Young Tobirama rolled his eyes. “I meant, what will it do to that demon out there? Will he die? Will it be painful?” There was barely contained glee in the child’s voice that sent ice through his older self’s veins. 

Tobirama looked down, closing his eyes and clenching his fists. “You ignorant fool,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Acting like ending a life is a pleasure, like a painful death is a fitting sentence for one who hasn’t even lived long enough to commit the atrocities that would make him deserving of your wrath. It doesn’t matter who you are, who he is. He is a child! NO child should have to die, no child should have to suffer for the wars of old, arrogant imbeciles! You should never be eager to take any life, but especially that of a child’s! Children are a gift, a way to safeguard the future and pass on the knowledge we gain. A hope that the world can be a better place once we leave it. The death of a child is never a cause for celebration.”

His young self was silent for a moment. They had both turned to watch the cannon-ball contest over at the river. Tobirama knew the time to make their move was coming soon, and he clenched his fists. He hated that this was the only way, but he had tried so hard, damnit, and nothing else had worked! When the child spoke up, it was so quiet he could barely hear it. “Do I have children?”

Tobirama paused a moment, then scrubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t look at the child as he answered. “Even at this age, you know the answer to that,” he said, his face stony. He saw the child nod solemnly beside him. “Your preference isn’t conducive to the building of a family.”

The child only nodded again, pitching in a quiet, “Yeah, I figured…”

Tobirama sighed. The child seemed upset, and rightly so. His father would have been beyond furious had he ever learned that when he wasn’t training, a teenage Tobirama had been fooling around with other boys behind the trees surrounding the farthest training grounds. Butsuma had never supported homosexuals to begin with; the thought that Tobirama, his intended heir, would shirk his duty to produce further heirs in lieu of a thick cock shoved up his ass would have had him seething. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the time to comfort the child. Once he recovered from his father’s brainwashing, he knew the child would be okay. Without fear of his father’s reaction, Tobirama had come to be very comfortable in his sexuality, and he knew that regardless of the changes today made in his life, he was sure that this young, resilient version of himself would do the same. “It’s time,” he said quietly. 

Young Tobirama glanced over at him, slight panic in his red eyes, but he nodded. Just like that, he was gone. Tobirama watched as a streak of white shot across the riverbank, the not-quite-refined speed jostling the cups laid out on the blanket. Tobirama inhaled sharply as Madara’s head whipped around, eyeing the set-up cautiously, but the child shrugged, dismissing the movement as a figment of his imagination. Tobirama couldn’t help but think about how deeply he would regret that if he would ever have the chance. His chest tightened just thinking about it, the thoughts of tiny coffins and small, cold hands plaguing his mind. Tobirama may despise Madara and think he was capable of bringing about the downfall of their very world, but this child hadn’t yet committed the sins for which Tobirama was punishing him. This child was still, as much as anyone in their world could be, innocent, and the significance of what he must do weighed heavily on his heart.

But it was too late to turn back now. Hashirama and Madara were sitting down to what they clearly didn’t know would be their last meal together, and Tobirama’s heart was already breaking. He may not like Madara, but Hashirama did, and what was about to happen… he’d be lying if he said he thought it wouldn’t affect the boy. 

The young Tobirama was back by his side at this point, watching the scene before them play out. He didn’t look particularly overeager, but Tobirama knew he was excited. He didn’t yet have the appreciation for childhood innocence he would one day show, or share his brother’s dream of a peaceful world. This child lived in a simpler world, a world of black and white. A world where the Senju were the heroes, and the Uchiha sought to shroud their lives in darkness. Tobirama watched Madara bring the cup to his lips, and turned away. Though he was the one who had done this, he couldn’t bear to watch. He started walking away, surprised when he felt a tug on his sleeve. 

“Are you going? But wait, I have so many questions for you!” his younger self said. 

Behind him, he could hear coughing, and he turned away from his younger self, trying to hide the tears threatening to spill over from his eyes. “I’ve accomplished my mission, I must go. To stay would change too much,” he managed. 

The child looked disappointed, but let him go, nodding. Tobirama was about to run, as fast as he could, when he heard awful gagging and choking noises from the river, and Hashirama’s voice starting to raise to a fever pitch, panic setting in. He pressed one palm against a nearby tree, nearly doubling over in his grief, and he could feel curious young eyes on him. “I know how you feel about him, but Hash… Hashirama is the only one who truly cares for you. This will be hard for him; he needs you to be there. Support him. Get to know him. Let him love you,” he choked out.

“Madara? Madara?! Wake up, please, Madara! WAKE UP!”

Tobirama closed his eyes, blinking back tears as he heard the anguish in his brother’s voice. It was a sadness he had dreamed he would never have to hear again, and to be the cause of it was devastating, even if the other would never know it was he who had done it. He ran, allowing his tears to flow freely. He didn’t deserve the release of suppressing his emotions about what he had just done. He had caused Hashirama pain, and that was unforgivable. For that, he deserved to feel every wave of crushing regret that came, steady as the tide, though he truly believed in his heart he had done what was right. 

He ran nonstop until he reached the spot where he had originally returned to, and he allowed himself to collapse on the ground. He was surprised when his emotions ran free, sobs wracking his body, and for perhaps the first time in his life, he allowed himself to just  _ feel _ . Feel the pain of betraying his only remaining sibling, the loss of the potential that he had once seen in Madara as an ally, however briefly. The fear of what exactly it was he would be returning to. He had been careful not to change anything he didn’t have to, going as far as to bring food pills with him so he wouldn’t have to kill any wildlife that was here or uproot a single plant for food, and sleeping in trees rather than setting up a more comfortable camp, but his mission alone… He had changed the very fabric of the reality from which he came, and it was impossible to know how it would be affected. 

With that thought in mind, Tobirama gathered himself, breathing deeply until he could feel his mask of indifference slowly sliding back into place. He took one final, steadying breath before opening his eyes. He had already brought himself back to the location he had marked, the exact spot from where he had left. He unrolled the scroll and placed it on the ground, closing his eyes as he once again allowed the jutsu to suck him into the place he belonged.


	2. Time Stops for No Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobirama returns to the future, but it does not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I've left everyone on a cliff hanger for so long! I thought I would be able to get the next part up as easily as the last, but I've been struggling with getting it just right! Take note that I have extended the number of chapters (not sure how far at this point), but I wanted to leave everyone in a better place than with my last one, and finally have something I deem worthy of publishing. So here it is,hope it was worth the wait, and I will continue working on it as fast as I can!

The next morning, Tobirama wandered carefully through the halls of the Hokage tower, his guard fully raised. On his way in this morning, he had been surprised to find that nothing seemed to be changed. He had seen the ominous-looking gates of the Uchiha complex that Madara had insisted on having looming like a silent threat over the rest of the village’s establishments, though with slight modifications that made them seem mildly less intimidating. Obviously, the Uchiha had still joined with the Senju, which wasn’t all that surprising. The majority of the clan had been mostly won over to the side of peace before Hashirama’s foolish offer of self-sacrifice had finally won over Madara’s frozen heart. Perhaps they all just had similar taste in architecture?

When he had nearly reached Hashirama’s office, he hissed in anger and surprise when he saw the figure that was leaving the office. He slunk into the shadows, trying hard to sink into the walls, but the figure still paused with his hand on the knob, and he felt a flare of chakra reach for him. He pulled his own sharply away from it, but the man was apparently faster than he gave him credit for, as well as being a better sensor than he had thought. He just caught the edge of Tobirama’s field as it was reduced to a skin-tight cloak, and he turned towards him. Tobirama could see his eyes searching, and knew the exact moment that he had been spotted from the other’s sharp intake of breath. Dark eyes closed, and Tobirama watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed deeply before turning and stepping towards Tobirama, offering a tentative smile as he neared. “Tobirama,” he greeted, inclining his head toward the other. 

Tobirama glowered at him in response. “Uchiha,” he snarled. 

The other paused, turning to look at him, and when he did, Tobirama was surprised to see a flash of…  _ hurt? _ cross his face. Before he could examine the thought, the expression was gone, replaced by a professional mask, and Madara seemed to have abandoned whatever he had been about to say, stepping away rather quicker than he had been. Tobirama shook his head. No, that certainly hadn’t been hurt in Madara’s eyes. After all, the older man hated him. He shouldn’t even be able to cause him pain, emotionally speaking. 

He gathered his thoughts and stepped towards the door to the Hokage’s office, wondering what awaited him inside. He stepped in, his eyes darting around the room, which actually seemed to be exactly as he had seen it yesterday. His tense shoulders relaxed a fraction, and his lips twitched upwards at the blinding grin his older brother directed at him from behind his desk. “Dearest brother!! How are you doing on this fine day?!”

Tobirama raised an eyebrow, but otherwise remained unfazed. It seemed as though whatever had happened that day at the riverbank, Hashirama had pretty much remained the same exuberant, kind-hearted soul. He shrugged and slunk forward, dropping himself into one of the chairs in front of Hashirama’s desk. “I, uh, ran into Madara in the hallway…” he said, carefully observing Hashirama as he said it.

It would be impossible to miss the way Hashirama’s face fell into despair. “What did you do to him this time?!”

Tobirama sat up straighter, frowning. “Me? Why do you automatically assume  _ I _ did something?!”

Hashirama pouted. “Because you’re always being mean to Madara, Tobi, and all he wants is your attention. Is that so wrong?”

Tobirama raised an eyebrow. “My  _ attention? _ Why on Earth would he want that? The man hates me!”

Hashirama rolled his eyes and huffed exasperatedly. “For Kami’s sake, Tobirama, as genius as you are, you sure can be daft sometimes.  _ He likes you! _ ”

Tobirama couldn't help it. He barked out a short, almost aggressive laugh, allowing his posture to slump into something more casual and appropriate for this familiar bickering with his brother. His lip turned up in amusement as he thought about the fact that even the subject matter was very familiar to him, though different. After all, he Hashirama he knew was always encouraging him  _ he _ should like Madara, not trying to convince him the opposite was already true. He was genuinely curious what about this world had changed, but Madara had just been here and everything seemed so civil, so clearly, something had. The world he had left last night had been on the verge of civil war, Madara and his hateful fury at the helm, Hashirama fretting and anxious all the time. Here, things seemed to be going quite smoothly. 

“I highly doubt that, brother. I’m sure Madara feels the same for me as I do for him, as it always has been.”

Hashirama dropped his head heavily onto his desk, groaning in frustration. “For the love of Kami, Tobirama, why do you always have to be so stubborn?!” he mumbled into the wood, just below his brother's excellent hearing capabilities. 

Tobirama looked miffed. “If you're going to grumble incoherently about me, at least do it when I'm out of earshot.”

Hashirama lifted his head, waving his brother off. “Never mind. Just go.. be somewhere else, we'll meet for lunch later. I have loads of paperwork Madara just dropped off for me…” he said, sounding less than enthused. 

Tobirama frowned. Hashirama never sent him away, unless he was truly upset with him. Hashirama being the open spirit that he was, that was almost never, and he never withheld the cause. He considered it dishonest, and believed that dishonesty amongst family was the worst crime one could commit (though he said that about many other things, too, so whose to say which one he truly thought the worst). He wracked his brain, trying to figure out what in their short conversation could have upset Hashirama so deeply, but unable to find the reason, stood with a sigh. He gave one last discontent glance to his brother, head now bent over his desk though it was obvious he was waiting to see what Tobirama was going to do. Tobirama left without a word, and as soon as he did, Hashirama released a huge sigh. “I don't even know why I bother. He's never going to see it…” he mumbled sadly.

**********************

Rather than head to his office in the tower, Tobirama decided to go out and get some dango and head back to his home to clean up the mess his return had made in his lab. He wanted to see if anything else in the village had been changed by his actions, but everything seemed pretty much the same. He got dango from his favorite place, and headed towards his home. He made note of the minor changes he saw as he walked, but most of his mind was preoccupied with the situation at hand. So much so that he almost didn't notice the chakra signature inside his home. Almost. 

Whoever it was, it was obvious that they were trying to hide their presence, and they were doing a surprisingly good job of it. Even putting effort into his sensing, he couldn't tell who it was. They were powerful, certainly. Very powerful. Tobirama scowled as he pulled a weapon from a careful hiding place in his yukata, and closed his eyes as he enhanced his senses. He located the intruder in his bedroom, and it gave him pause for just a moment. What would someone want in his bedroom? A spy, perhaps?

He reached for the familiar marker, grateful to find that in this timeline, he had still invented the Hiraishin and placed markers in every room in his home, and in the blink of an eye, was pulled through time and space into his own room, a hostile glare on his face. He whirled about to face the intruder, kunai in hand as he flew forward, and pinned to the wall… a very naked Uchiha Madara. 

To his surprise, Madara showed very little fear. Black eyes somehow darkened, and Madara all but growled, “So that’s the game you wanna play, huh?” Tobirama had only a second to be confused before his eyes widened in shock as Madara’s mouth crashed against his own. A tongue pushing its way into his mouth made him yelp and jump back, Madara’s now unsupported frame falling to the floor, where he stared at the albino with eyes full of desire and confusion. 

“Sorry, I know you like to be in control when you’re angry, but… you just looked so gorgeous, and… dangerous,” Madara panted, breathless from the passionate kiss. 

It took a moment for Tobirama to gather himself, but when he did, he raged. “What the hell is wrong with you, Uchiha?!” To his surprise, Madara didn’t yell back, or even fight. He got onto his knees, head bowed, and just stayed there. Tobirama stared in shock and confusion, taking minutes just to find his voice. “What are you doing? Get up!”

Madara’s eyes raised, looking confused, but the emotion quickly cleared as he stood. He collected his clothes from a pile on a nearby chair, and started dressing. “I suppose this is over then?” he asked quietly, giving Tobirama a questioning look. 

Tobirama met his gaze with a confused look of his own. “What on Earth are you talking about, Uchiha?” he growled. There was very little in life that Tobirama liked less than being confused. 

Instead of answering, though, Madara shook his head and breathed a sad laugh. “I guess that answers my question. I always knew it would end, but… I thought I would have more time.” He smiled sadly at Tobirama, who shook his head, trying to understand. 

“More time for what?!”

Tobirama instinctively stepped back when Madara stood before him, and saw hurt flash through the older man’s eyes. He smiled and pushed through it, though, reaching a hand for a pale, red-streaked cheek. “To pretend you loved me, too…” he said quietly. And with that, he was gone, leaving Tobirama gaping in shock. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's so short, but I wanted to get something out and have been crazy busy lately.

Tobirama sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh, casting a glance over the many papers and research volumes scattered across his desktop. He had looked through every resource he had available to him, and every one of them told him that his concoction should have worked as intended. There was simply no explanation for how Madara was alive, and certainly none for why he had thought Tobirama would do anything but attack him when he found him naked in his bed. 

Madara’s words as he left that night had haunted Tobirama for two weeks. On the few occasions he had seen the wild-haired man, he had caught several longing glances when the Uchiha didn’t think he could see him. It was maddening, and every time Tobirama tried to reach the other man, he always seemed to disappear before he could. The only times he ever even saw him were at council meetings and work events. Other than that, it was obvious the man was avoiding him. 

A glimpse of Madara’s sad, hurt face as he left flashed through his mind, and he grabbed one of the books and lobbed it across the room with a growl. He felt a very familiar chakra signature pause outside, and cursed himself for not paying attention to his surroundings. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as the door inevitably cracked open and his brother’s head peered cautiously around the wood. 

“Tobi?” he asked meekly as he stepped into the room. 

Tobirama sighed. “Yes, brother?”

Hashirama peered at him in the dim light, concern written across his face. “Is everything okay?”

Tobirama nodded. “Yes, brother. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Hashirama nodded slowly, biting his lip as he surveyed the dozens of texts and scrolls spread out before his baby brother, and then his eyes traveled to the book that had opened mid-flight and was currently laying spread open, pages down. “Your new project got you stumped?”

Tobirama sighed again. “Yes,” he answered reluctantly.

Hashirama nodded again, and was silent for a suspicious amount of time. Tobirama narrowed his eyes, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Perhaps you could… bounce some ideas off of me? You know, like you used to when we were younger?”

Tobirama waved a hand dismissively. “No, I couldn’t possibly…” he said absently. 

Hashirama was silent for a moment. “Oh. Of course. I’ll just… leave you to it then.” 

Tobirama noted with a jolt that Hashirama sounded truly crestfallen. Hurt, even. “Hashirama, look at me.” 

His brother froze. He could see his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, but when those big, brown eyes were turned on him, he could still see the hurt. The other man sighed tiredly. “Tobi, I love you, and I want to be here for you, but I have better things to do than stand here and listen to you crow about your superior intellect and how you’re a more ‘evolved’ being than me. I mean, the way you’ve been acting these last few weeks… well, it seemed maybe that had changed about you. But I guess not. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home, see my wife, and get some sleep to prepare for our meetings tomorrow.”

He turned and walked to the door, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him and made him jump. Tobirama turned him around and looked straight into his eyes. “How can you say that, Hashirama?”

Hashirama choked out a bitter laugh. “Tobi, you’ve always had an air of superiority about you. You’re barely even willing to admit that I’m a superior fighter, and the only reason that you do is because Madara would kick your ass just to remind you that I’m the only one strong enough to defeat him. He may like you, but he certainly gets frustrated with your attitude.”

Tobirama took a step back, frowning and shaking his head. This was a disturbing revelation. Apparently, he was an even bigger ass in this world than his own. “Hashirama, that isn’t how I feel at all.” Hashirama’s jaw dropped and he just stared at his brother. Tobirama shrugged. “What? It’s true. I’ve made innumerable contributions to science and jutsu theory, and I am quite proud of that. However, to say that those contributions are superior to what you’ve done for the world as a whole is ludicrous. Your skills with people and your trustworthy nature make you a much more valuable person than myself, and your ability to bring people together is beyond impressive.”

Hashirama’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he reached slowly for his weapon. “Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

Tobirama rolled his eyes. “Brother, it’s me.” He was unable to stop himself from scoffing, “Well, sort of.”

Hashirama still watched him, hand on the blade of his weapon. “What do you mean, ‘sort of’?”

Tobirama watched him for a minute and sighed, turning back to his desk. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Hashirama followed, standing close to the desk so he could prevent any escape. “Try me,” he said, his eyes steely and cold. Tobirama shivered. 

“Brother, I have work to do. Please don’t be ridiculous. Of course it’s me.”

Hashirama scoffed. “You complimented me. Expounded on my virtues. Either you’re not you, or you want something. You’re never nice for the sake of being nice.” Tobirama looked at his brother for a long moment, and felt a pang in his chest when he found the long-settled hurt in those soulful brown eyes. 

He looked down at his desk. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should be kind more often,” he said quietly. He could feel Hashirama’s chakra calm slightly as it roiled in confusion. The man sat down heavily in the single, ill-supported chair that sat across from Tobirama’s desk. It was obvious that in this world, he didn’t have visitors often. He should have taken that as a sign of what he was like. In his own timeline, Hashirama had spent so much time in his office that he had replaced Tobirama’s uncomfortable guest chair, originally intended for keeping people from staying long, with a squishy armchair himself. He could feel Hashirama’s chakra prod around the edges of his own, testing it for familiarity, and the man sat back when he was satisfied, even more confused. “What is going on with you, Tobi?”

“I can’t tell you. You’ll never understand…” he said quietly. 

Hashirama scoffed. “Why? Because I’m not smart enough?”

Tobirama looked up at Hashirama, and instantly knew it was a mistake. “Because you’ll never forgive me,” he whispered.    
Hashirama looked at him, calculating. “Try me.”

Suddenly, the strain of the past two weeks, especially being forced to face this unknown reality without his brother’s loving support, wore him down, and before he knew it, he was spilling out the entire story. Hashirama listened with wide eyes. When Tobirama was finished, there was silence for several long moments. “Do you really expect me to believe that?” Hashirama asked quietly. 

Tobirama stood so quickly his chair flew back to hit the wall violently. “NO! I already told you that you wouldn’t believe me, but it’s true!” he growled. He turned to the window, stared out over the village, his brother’s dream. He looked towards where he knew the Uchiha district sat within the sprawling town, out of sight from the tower but if he focused, he could still feel that pinprick of burning hot chakra that for all intents and purposes, should have been destroyed that fateful day. “I’ve gathered that the Tobirama of this timeline didn’t deserve your trust, and I thought I’d come to terms with that, but apparently I was wrong. I don’t blame you for not believing me. If our positions were reversed, I wouldn’t believe you either. But it’s true. I’m struggling to deal with it myself. Normally, you are the person I would go to with something like this, but here… I miss you,” he admitted quietly.   
Behind him, Hashirama was silent. He could just barely make out the man’s contemplative reflection in the mirror. “So… we were close? You and I?”

Tobirama closed his eyes, letting out a breath. “Yes. You and Touka are the only people I can relate to… You were my lifelines.”

Hashirama’s reflection frowned. “Yamanaka.”

Tobirama frowned. “I’m sorry?” He turned to his brother. 

Hashirama looked at him, lips pressed into a thin line of concentration. “I’ve recently assigned the head of the Yamanaka clan to interrogation. Their mind jutsus make them ideal for such a task. If I’m not mistaken, they have a jutsu that will allow them to take me through your memories. That way, we can prove this little story, and come up with a plan of what to do next.” 

Tobirama grimaced. He didn’t really like the idea of some stranger rooting around in his brain, but he didn’t want Hashirama to think he was lying, either. “Perhaps. But what if the memories follow the body, and not the mind? Then we’d only see this timeline’s memories. It would be helpful to me, help me understand what’s changed in my own history, but not to you. Plus…”

“It would make you look like a liar,” Hashirama said. 

Tobirama shrugged. “Technically, no.”

Hashirama raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? How would it not?”

“Well, your concern is that I am an imposter who has somehow managed to replace your brother. The memory search will either confirm my story, or show memories of the you that you know, confirming that I am in fact him.” He let out another deep breath. “The second would probably just make you think I’m crazy…”

Hashirama laughed quietly. “Tobi, I’m your brother. You may not have been the nicest sibling, but you’ve never lied. IF you’re you, I won’t need proof of your story. You’d never lie about science. Especially if it would hinder your own understanding.” He smiled sadly. “I’ll arrange for us to meet with Ichiro in the morning. Until then, you should go home and get some rest. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

Tobirama laughed. “Two, actually. But that’s nothing new for me.”

Hashirama frowned. “You know, Tobi, you really should take better care of yourself.”

Tobirama raised an eyebrow. “You know, Hashi, if you aren’t careful, I might think you actually care,” he teased. 

Hashirama froze, staring wide-eyed, and Tobirama tensed. Hashirama’s concern was so familiar he had forgotten for a moment that this wasn’t  _ his _ Hashirama. “What is it?”

“You… you called me Hashi… You haven’t done that since we were kids.”

“Oh. I, uh… I’m sorry.”

“No, I… I’ve missed that.” Hashirama had tears in his eyes, but he didn’t allow them to spill. Tobirama was surprised, and concerned as much as he was impressed. Had this Hashirama learned to hide his emotions as Father had always taught? His brother shook his head, smiling sadly. He turned to leave, but stopped with his hand on the doorknob, turning his head slightly towards his brother. “For what it’s worth… I hope you’re telling the truth. I’d like to get to know this you.”

With that, he left, leaving an ache in Tobirama’s heart and a hopeful smile on his face.


End file.
